


Terpsichore

by Vadianna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hatesex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-TLJ, Rough Sex, Sparring, Wrestling, Yoga, kylo ren is dirty and smells bad, still my weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vadianna/pseuds/Vadianna
Summary: PWP Plot 78: Hux is in the gym.  Ren finds him and helps.The night after the events ofThe Last Jedi, Kylo Ren can't sleep.  He goes to the gym to exhaust himself, only to find Hux, alone, doing stretches.  Ren challenges him to a fight with the stipulation that he cannot use his Force powers and must keep one hand behind his back.Hux is more of a match than he thought.





	Terpsichore

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I needed to write Kylo POV, a TLJ fic, and sweaty wrestling. But I also stared at these two pieces of art for a long time, and they kept me in That Gym Mood:
> 
> \- [This comic of Hux doing yoga and Ren being impressed](http://redelicebeta.tumblr.com/post/169928032111/nimble-as-a-cat-pevious-next) by [@redelice](http://redelicebeta.tumblr.com) got me thinking about yoga.  
> \- This [Aerobics Hux in lingerie](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com/post/169803562287/bring-back-aerobics-hux-2k18) by [@kylostahp](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com) got me wanting to actually write something, and is also definitely why Hux is wearing lingerie. I am a coward, so Hux is not wearing the aerobics outfit. 
> 
> There's a section where Hux gets out his monomolecular knife and threatens Ren with it. It's sort of flirting in the context of the fic, but isn't involved with the sex. I wasn't sure how to tag that, so I thought I'd throw it here in case that's a problem.

Predictably, Ren couldn’t sleep. He was exhausted, body and mind, and craved stillness. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw his uncle brushing the dust off his shoulder after that onslaught of laser fire Ren had ordered reigned down upon him. Ren’s eyes would snap open, and the rage would take him, replaying every defeat he’d suffered that day. The humiliation of Snoke. The rejection of the girl. The escape of the Millennium Falcon. The destruction of the _Supremacy_. The defeat on Crait. His uncle.

His uncle.

The girl.

His uncle.

There were only so many things in his suite to destroy. And he knew, in the dim, logical part of his mind, that the Resistance had done enough damage to the _Supremacy_. Destruction wouldn't slake his rage at the moment.

There was only one thing that calmed him when his thoughts were this chaotic, and that was the control he had over his body. He liked to reassure himself how _well_  it performed, until he grew exhausted and calm. He could go through his sword katas, his strength exercises. He could lift. He might even try the hardest battle sims, deflecting laser fire until no thoughts remained in his head and he collapsed on the floor of the Fitness Suite.

He needed the peace of oblivion desperately, before he could move on and put everything behind him.

He did little to conceal his mood as he stalked through the transports and the numerous hallways of the _Supremacy_ , which were of course, much less numerous now. But that was someone else’s problem. He assumed Hux was overseeing that, forcing his officers to listen to a litany of _save credits_  and _hurry up_  and _stay on task_.  And someone was going to have to clean up that throne room.

There had been that, at least. He had killed Snoke, and the _rightness_  of that had resonated to the very core of his being. He’d lied about it to Hux on a whim, but choking Hux into submission, seeing his self-satisfied face turn pale and scared, had been nearly as good.

He slammed his palm into the control panel and strode into the large Fitness Suite, yanking off his gloves and tossing them carelessly to the floor. They were coated with a dusting of the salt residue from Crait, as was the rest of him - his skin and hair, his boots, tunic, and pants. He had thrown it all on thoughtlessly when he’d dressed to come here. Sweating all of it off, then cleansing himself in a shower of intolerably hot water, would erase the presence of that miserable planet well enough.

But there was something different about the Fitness Suite today. He stopped suddenly just inside the doorway, letting it hiss closed behind him.

The main area was cavernous, two stories tall, with a catwalk that spanned the second story around its gray walls. It was windowless, adorned with screens for battle sims, fully stocked weapons racks, a brace of training droids, and doors leading off to bathing, swimming, and weightlifting chambers.

In the center of the vacant main space was the General, back to the entrance, barefoot and wearing a tight-fitting workout uniform in gray. The top was sleeveless, or Ren would have half-expected to see his rank stripes stitched into the sleeve of that as well. He assumed Hux slept in his greatcoat, custom made of gaberwool as it was.

There were several things that startled him to stillness. The first was that he’d never seen the General in the large Fitness Suite. All the officers and commanders were authorized to use the rooms here, but most didn’t. If anyone else was present, Ren usually made it clear that the main suite was for his use alone, both on the _Supremacy_  and the identical suite on the _Finalizer_. So why was Hux here?

And what was he doing? His back faced Ren, and his legs were spread apart. He was bent at the waist, one hand planted flat on the floor by his left foot, the other extended straight, his arms forming a perfect perpendicular to the floor. The top of the workout uniform, tight and short, had ridden up his waist, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and the bottom of Hux’s ribcage. Ren winced. The General appeared to be holding the position silently.

He hadn’t noticed Ren enter, and Ren hadn’t done it particularly quietly. Ren tilted his head, helping himself to a surface read of Hux’s thoughts. He appeared to be counting his breaths. Nothing more.

When he reached a count of one hundred twenty, he straightened, relaxed his muscles, inhaled deeply, exhaled. Then he dropped to his right knee and stretched to hold a pose, body arched to the left, left leg and arm stretched out, right arm extended above his head. The shirt rode up above his waist again, the muscles of his narrow thighs and ass flexed under the thin fabric of the tight pants, and Hux’s toes dug into the gray mats that covered the floor of the room

Once again, he counted his breaths. Nothing more. He was in a state of deep meditation, completely unaware of the room around him, of Ren’s presence.

Suddenly, Ren was sick with jealousy. Not only of the fact that Hux had found the escape and peace that Ren had come here to seek, but that he so easily appeared to drop into the kind of deep, inner meditation that Ren had never mastered himself. The kind that his uncle had tried to guide him through over and over. The attempts had always ended with frustration and anger from Ren, far from the clear feeling that had been meant to feed his connection to the Light.

He took a step forward, body tensing, then stopped. He had intended to push Hux over, which he suddenly realized was childish, something that the General would mock him for. He clenched his fists at his sides.

“General,” he barked.

When Hux didn’t respond, he grunted in frustration, then used the Force to yank Hux’s leg out from under him. Hux yelped and hit the thin gray mat with a satisfying smack, scrambling around and pulling himself away from Ren.

“Ren. Supreme Leader,” Hux managed in a steady voice, though Ren was hit involuntarily with everything that Hux had obviously been trying to bury inside himself - his deep anxiety, his fear, his humiliation. Amazingly, it didn’t show on his face (it never did), but the feelings were so repulsive, and so unlike the General, that Ren raised his lip.

“What are you doing in my gym?”

“ _Your_  gym? I was unaware that you laid claim to all this equipment.” Hux sat on the ground, rallying himself somewhat, apparently relaxing into the familiar sport of arguing with Ren. He still looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in a month, his complexion pale and dark circles showing under his eyes. “Use all six of the hot tubs at once, do you?”

Ren set his jaw, looking over the suite. It was enormous, really far too much for just him. One end of the main space held a court for grav-ball. The bathing suite was extensive, the only one like it on the ship, with steam rooms, showers, hot and cold pools, and real marble bathtubs with hot water jets.

Admittedly, Ren rarely used any of the amenities other than the large main room and the weights. Still.

“My gym.” Ren crossed his arms and raised his head, reminding himself that he’d choked Hux into submission hours before. The bruises showed starkly against his pale throat. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here?” Hux asked, gesturing to the space. “I was unaware that you had a particular attachment to this public space, and I was foolishly making use of it for its intended purpose.”

“ _Please_ ,” Ren scoffed, looking over Hux’s thin body. “You obviously don’t have a regular exercise routine.”

Hux reddened. “We don’t all have the kind of leisure to do whatever we like, Ren. _Supreme Leader_.” Hux had a way of saying the title that made it an infuriating insult every time. “But yes, I do come here before my shift and make use of the facilities.” Hux narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never once seen you here.”

“I could say the same of you.” He wasn’t normally awake this early, but Hux didn’t have to know that.

Ren drug his gaze up and down Hux’s body again, taking in his thin arms, his slim hips, his overall narrow and lean frame. He was diminished, without that ridiculous greatcoat and the layers of his uniform.

He frowned. Hux’s small stature had given him an idea, something that would go far in laying to rest his frustrations.

He took several steps closer to Hux, who was still sitting on the floor, legs in front of him. “If we’re both here to… _exercise_ ,” Ren emphasized the word, because that was certainly not what Hux was doing, “Perhaps you’d be up for a sparring match, General?”

Hux rolled his eyes and drug one hand through his hair, which was loose and damp with sweat. The room was hotter than normal, and very humid, almost as if the steam rooms had been activated. “Do I look stupid to you? You threw me into a wall yesterday. As if I’d say yes to that.”

It was on the tip of Ren’s tongue to make it an order. He could do that now. It would be the easiest thing, and it would send Hux into a petulant fury. Instead, he smirked.

“A practice match between… friends,” he said, making his voice light and sing-song, in a way that had always unsettled others. “I won’t use my powers. I promise.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “As if I’d trust your word for anything.” He gestured carelessly with one hand. “You’re a compulsive liar, and a creature of whims. Even if you are being truthful right now, you absolutely would use your power without hesitation if the thought entered your head.”

Ren’s anger snapped, taut and sudden, and he took a step forward, bending down and kneeling in front of Hux. Hux shrank back slightly, sensing the misstep.

“Be careful how you speak to me. This disrespect to my face ends now.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

The reply was automatic, and full of contempt, though Hux managed to keep it from his face better than he had in front of Snoke. Ren was somehow unsatisfied with the response, though he couldn’t determine why. He stood, crossing his arms again and studying Hux silently for a few moments.

“I won’t use my powers. And I’ll spar with one hand behind my back.” He moved one wrist to the small of his back in demonstration, feeling the salt on his clothes, gritty against the bare skin.

Hux’s eyes went to his waist, then back to his face. “With all due respect, Supreme Leader, I’ll decline.”

And the insult was there, in his eyes, dancing at the front of his thoughts, in his particular pronunciation of ‘Supreme Leader,’ if Ren would care to read into it. Hux had already spoken his insults aloud, and could not take them back. They both knew why Hux was declining.

The fury throbbed at Ren’s temples again, tightened his muscles, bunched his hands into fists. And he realized, suddenly, that his thoughts had been quiet before that. Sparring with Hux, beating him to a pulp, was exactly the kind of satisfying distraction he needed. He swallowed, trying to reign himself back in.

“Then I’m making it an order.”

Hux stared at him, and then stood, back rigid and straight, the bruises showing black and green around his bared neck.

“You’ll have to be more clear, Supreme Leader.” The insult in his tone again, barely perceptible, but there. Would it ever go away? Ren ignored it now.

“I order you to spar with me. I will not use my Force powers. I will keep my hand behind my back. Do you need me to say it slower?”

Hux sneered. “No, sir.”

The ‘sir’ was also an insult, but Ren let it go. He relaxed his arms at his sides, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of the situation, the absurdity of Ren giving the General an order. Hux watched him expectantly, the regard crawling over Ren’s skin in exactly the way he loathed, and he was reminded suddenly of Snoke.

_Take that ridiculous thing off._

Ren turned his back and began to undo the belt of his tunic, then got even angrier when he realized it would look like a gesture of modesty. He began a deliberate, jerking walk to the entrance, throwing his belt on the ground in a fit of pique and nearly tearing the seams of his tunic in his haste to get it over his head. He removed his undershirt, then his boots, hearing them crack and creak with the layer of salt that had stiffened them, the patter of it hitting the mat around him. He brushed himself off, and was suddenly furious, remembering his uncle. He turned to face Hux, who wore his usual impassive expression.

“Well?” It was almost a snarl, but there was also the undeniable fact that Hux would be one of the few who had seen him unclothed this much in a long time (other than the girl, don't think about that), and he relaxed. His body, on full display, was one of the things he could be sure of. Very confident. It was worth looking at, worth showing to others. Ren had worked countless hours to build his physique, to strengthen himself far above and beyond Hux’s weak body, above any other human he was likely to meet. He was impressive. He was a spectacle. Ren debated entering Hux’s thoughts, wanting to taste the flavor of his intimidation, the edge to his defeat.

Admittedly, they had both tasted too much of in the last two days. But this particular victory over Hux, the victory of his body, would be sweet.

Hux’s eyes dropped to his chest, then went back to his face. “Do you always do this shirtless, in high-waisted pants?”

Ren frowned, taking several steps in Hux’s direction, then pausing. Hux eyed him warily.

“You promised you’d keep one hand behind your back."

Ren smirked. Hux believed he wouldn’t be hurt like this. Unbelievable. “Of course.”

And then, because he craved the advantage, the contact of bare flesh against flesh, he took a deep step and swung, planning on connecting his fist with Hux’s face and winning in one decisive blow.

And rather than connecting, he found his wrist gripped firmly in Hux’s hand, Hux’s other fist buried in the soft place just under his armpit. It was all faster than Ren could think, faster than Hux should have been able to move.

Ren hissed and stepped away, twisting his wrist out of Hux’s hold. Hux’s grip had been dry and strong, and as Ren yanked back and stepped away, he felt both the sting of his wrist and the dull throb against his ribs. The punch hadn’t been powerful, but he wasn’t used to being struck there. Or at all. He frowned, then stepped back again, rocking onto the balls of his feet. Hux stood in a tense ready posture, watching Ren.

“Well?” Ren asked. “Are you going to stand and stare at me all day?”

“This is your fight,” Hux drawled. “If you feel the need to attack me, do it.”

That was all the encouragement Ren needed. Agitation bloomed, and suddenly, he wanted more than anything to connect with Hux. He punched again, feinting with a body blow then throwing a hard fist at Hux’s throat, imagining the satisfying crunch of tendons, the sound that Hux would make.

Hux managed to snatch his wrist again, dodging away, then he took a step in, forcing Ren’s arm and elbow up and above them, twisting it painfully.

The were close, for a moment, Hux’s skin hot against Ren’s, his chest moving in and out for a space of two breaths. Hux smelled unwashed, and his general state of dishevelment surprised Ren. The General was usually so neatly presented, so buttoned down. This was unlike him.

They matched strength for strength in this hold, Ren sure he could simply overpower Hux. He was furious to discover he could not, Hux somehow holding him firmly in place, arm twisted too painfully to exert much leverage. They both shook with exertion against each other, both were flushed red, Ren grunting with effort and fury at the mounting humiliation.

He tried to break the hold by jerking back suddenly, but Hux’s leg went behind his own too fast to avoid. Ren went down on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs. He tried to spring up, tried to get his legs underneath him, but Hux was there, fast, too fast. He kept his grip on Ren’s wrist, and wrapped his other hand around one of Ren’s calves, twisting his leg up, his hips to the side. One of Hux’s legs went between Ren’s, and he twisted both of Ren’s captured limbs to unnatural angles.

Agony shot through Ren, and more humiliation. He was furious, and overly hot, sweating profusely. He strained and struggled, pushing against the floor with his other hand, struggling to flip himself over. His weight should have been enough. It wasn’t. Hux shook with exertion, looking just as red and sweaty as Ren, but his grip was dry, and he held firm, keeping the limbs at a painful angle, just short of hyperextending and breaking the joints.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux admonished in a condescending voice, surprisingly steady for how much each was straining against the other. “You said you would only use one hand.”

“Fuck you,” Ren grit out, furious. “Let me up.”

“Do you concede?”

Ren wanted to use his Force powers. Badly. It would be as easy as throwing Hux into the wall to win this match, to end his humiliation. He could beat his smug, condescending face, and take satisfaction in a complete and utter victory.

_You’re a compulsive liar_ , Hux sneered in his head, and he managed to buck and heave himself, unsettling Hux’s grip enough to flip onto his stomach and attempt to get his hands and feet underneath him to push up.

But Hux was there, fast, _so fast_ , one of his legs suddenly locked around Ren’s elbow, a grip on both of Ren’s thighs, bending him backwards, bony ass pressing into the back of Ren’s head.

Ren tried to turn himself over with the other arm, flipping them both onto their sides, and he wound up in another hold, struggling, straining, Hux gripping one of his thighs and keeping his arm locked and immobilized. He could feel the press of Hux’s thigh into his chest and back, the strain, the heat of him, the slight quaking of muscle as Hux shook, trying to overpower Kylo Ren.

Hux was fast, Ren was willing to concede the rabid cur that much, but he wasn’t nearly strong enough, and Ren outweighed him by enough to make this ridiculous. He grunted, then pushed both of them over again, this time scrabbling enough to push Hux’s torso into the floor, forcing his legs back to a painful angle to return the favor.

Hux bent impossibly at the waist, his legs moving behind him. He went limp in Ren’s grip, smirking as Ren towered over him, baffled.

“Something wrong, Ren?”

“How-” he began, only to have one of Hux’s legs snake behind him. Hux was out from under him and behind him in a flash, his arms around his throat, thigh between his legs, fists at either side of his head, twisting Ren’s neck painfully. His chest pressed into Ren’s back, his shirt bunched higher up his torso and caught between them, the fabric damp with sweat from both of them, their skin slick where Hux’s stomach pressed into Ren’s back. He felt fine granules of Crait salt biting into the skin between them.

“Do you concede?”

“Fuck you,” Ren spat, twisting, bucking, contorting. He pulled hard, trying to break Hux’s hold. But Hux held him firmly. They were both sweating freely, and Ren could feel Hux’s grip sliding. It shouldn’t have held. It did. He tried to twist free, but Hux held firm.

“You’re the one that wanted to fight,” Hux drawled, as if he wasn’t shaking from the effort of keeping Ren bound. “You’re the one that will have to concede.”

“Over my dead body.”

And just like that, Ren was on his back, Hux’s knees pressed into his biceps, a damp hand at Ren’s sweaty throat. He felt a prick, just below his jawline, and he saw the glint of a tiny monomolecular blade gripped tightly in Hux’s other fist.

“It would be my pleasure, _Supreme Leader_.”

There was a glint in his eye, and Ren knew that he meant it. Hux’s hair fell in damp locks to either side of his face, his skin mottled red from the fight. Cords of muscle stood out on his biceps and forearms. Thin, Ren thought, but powerful. Fast.

Deadly.

“Has it come to this?”

He should be angry, furious at this turn of events. The treacherous little shit. But he wasn’t. He was calm. His thoughts were still. He wanted to see where this was going. He realized it would have happened eventually anyway. Better to get it out of the way.

“Now?” Hux asked, incredulity flashing across his features, then disappearing behind his usual expressionless mask, along with his fury, his contempt, and anything else he felt. Triumph. His slimy self-satisfaction. His ambition. Usually they were wrapped around Ren, overpowering, choking. Ren blocked them out now, turning in to himself, wanting to savor the moment.

“It came to this a long time ago. It came to this almost as soon as we met. It came to this, very nearly, when I found you unconscious on the floor of Snoke’s throne room, that idiot’s body on the floor, where _the girl_  had cut him in half.”

Hux put a fair bit of sarcasm behind his words. Ren knew he hadn’t believed him then. It didn’t really matter.

“Did you pull that little knife on me then, too? I don’t remember that.”

“It was my blaster.”

Ren frowned. “You would have shot me?”

“I didn’t.” Hux leaned in closer, the weight of him bearing down into Ren’s biceps, a point of pain for each bony knee, Hux's thighs pushing into his chest, his shoulders. The weight of him was almost nothing, as if the General lacked substance. But the heat of him, his presence, was monstrous, and brought to bear fully on Ren now.

Ren felt a drop of warmth trickle down his neck, whether sweat or blood he did not know. He didn’t care. Hux could take as much of either as he liked. Ren had plenty of both to spare. He turned his jaw into the blade and felt it bite deeper.

“Why didn’t you?”

Hux cocked his head. “I don’t take satisfaction in killing my enemies while they lay unconscious on the floor.”

Ren swallowed, nearly grinning against the blade. “Disappointing. I thought you were more of an opportunist. A rabid dog waiting to bite the hand that feeds it.”

The bare hand tightened at his throat. The thumb dug painfully into his windpipe, the fingers into the sinews at the back of his neck. He could feel the creak of Hux’s knuckles, his grip slick but tight in the muscles of Ren’s neck.

“I make an exception in your case. You’re so unpredictable, I know I’ll have all the opportunities I wish to kill you face to face.”

Ren grinned, and the fingers of one hand flexed above his head. He saw Hux’s throat convulse, his face redden further, but to Hux’s credit, his expression didn’t change.

“Liar,” Hux choked out, and Ren let his Force grip go, hissing.

“ _Liar_ ,” Ren mocked in a low voice. “You’re holding a knife to my throat.”

“Because you won’t concede the fight.”

“Is that what’s happening right now?”

They stared at each other for almost a full minute, Hux keeping his tight grip around Ren’s throat, the knife just below the line of his jaw. Ren kept the Force hold around Hux, but relaxed it suddenly. Hux took a gasping breath, but again, his expression didn’t change.

“What was the _point_  of this,” Hux said, shaking Ren slightly. “Did you really intend to simply throw me around the gym? Can you not find someone else to take your frustrations out on?”

“Most of my frustrations have to do with you.”

“Most of your frustrations have to do with _yourself_ ,” Hux spat, and Ren was suddenly angry. That had been too far.

He used a combination of the Force and his own strength to throw Hux off, pin him to the floor between his own outstretched legs, Hux’s legs bent at the knee, thrown on either side of Ren’s waist. Hux’s wrists were pinned above his head with the Force, the small knife still gripped in one fist, the wet, lank strands of his his red hair fanned out around his face on the floor.

“I told you to _watch your tongue_ ,” he hissed, squeezing Hux around the hips with both hands. Hux sneered at him.

“Yes, _Supreme Leader_.”

Hux was frightened, terrified, but also refused to be cowed.  It was heady.  And suddenly, the tension in the air was thick, the edge of something new surrounding them. Ren was unsettled, nearly vibrating with unspent energy. They were both hard, and Ren wondered, vaguely, when that had happened. Had it been the knife? The choking? The wrestling?

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, low, dangerously, leaning forward, letting a curtain of hair fall around his face. His hands crept up, his thumbs slipping under the tight gray shirt, now stained with sweat. He pulled the shirt up further, letting his palms skate across sweaty, freckled flesh until both of Hux’s nipples were exposed.

He watched the narrow chest heave up and down. Hux kept his breathing regular, as if this affected him not at all. But he was red, aroused, sweating, trembling against Ren’s hold on his body. Good.

“Maybe I did want to throw you around to tire myself out.” He got closer, pausing just in front of Hux’s red, snarling face. Hux was fighting the Force hold on his wrists, his biceps flexing, his face red, sweat slicking what was visible of his chest and neck. “But I lost, General. I concede.” He leaned closer still, his mouth just above Hux’s. He made sure their cocks pressed together, a slight pressure as Ren shifted on top of Hux, bending his legs impossibly backward, because apparently Hux could do that.

“What now?”

“Get off me.” It was an order, delivered in a firm, sure voice.

Ren smirked, and did, leaning back, leaving their clothed erections pressed together. “Yes, General.”

Hux sat up, and very deliberately planted a hand in the center of Ren’s chest. He pushed, and pushed harder. It was insistent, but Ren made very sure that it was clear that he was leaning back at his discretion, not at Hux’s order.

Hux straddled his waist, nestling his narrow ass above Ren’s erection. Ren could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his pants, so hot where their thighs pressed together.

“You are an impulsive piece of shit,” Hux said, bringing the knife back to his throat, dragging it along the line of his jaw, the unshaven hairs of Ren’s dark beard rasping against the honed edge. “You came in here to exercise, demand I leave, demand to fight me, and now practically demand… hmm.” He considered, tilting his head slightly. “What whim has entered your head now, Supreme Leader?”

“You appear to be the one giving orders, General. I advise you use the power wisely.”

The knife moved to the other side of his face, tracing lightly along the scar. Ren could see it, but didn’t feel the point against his skin, assumed that Hux wasn’t going to re-open the wound. He almost smirked. And after all that work Snoke did to shame him into getting it treated. He’d leave it open, raw, bleeding. It wouldn’t be defeat anymore, but… whatever this was. A better memory, at least.

A twitch of his fingers, and the elastic waist of Hux’s pants dipped lower, slowly dragging down to reveal a trail of short red hair, disappearing into-

“What’s this?” He asked, genuinely curious, yanking the pants further down Hux’s thighs with a twitch of his fingers. Delicate, translucent fabric stretched over Hux’s erection, the head of his dick pinned with a length of black lace, the same trailed over his hips and down into neatly trimmed red pubic hair between his thighs.

“None of your business,” Hux snapped, twisting one of Ren’s nipples savagely. Ren made a low noise and twisted underneath him, but was used to pain by now.

“Seems like it is,” he drawled. “What’s your next order, General? Going to have me lick you through your pretty panties? Shove your cock down my throat until I’m choking so hard there’s tears running down my face?” He twitched his fingers again, and the hair next to Hux’s temple ruffled. “Want me to dig out any fantasies you’ve stored away in that twisted brain of yours?”

“Pervert,” Hux snarled. His free hand went to Ren’s hair, tightening painfully, salt biting against his scalp. Ren watched as Hux’s cock twitched beneath the thin, translucent fabric.

“I had no idea you had such a desire to be mastered, Ren.” The corner of his mouth twitched up, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps I should have guessed.”

It was too close to the truth, too cruel. Ren twitched his fingers, and Hux would have felt a play of fire up his spine, a cold harsh and painful against his chest, on his nipples, unseen now that his shirt had slid back down his chest. Hux hissed.

“Careful,” Ren murmured. “You know how impulsive and unstable I can be.”

Hux pulled his fingers from Ren’s tangled hair and moved his hand behind him, gripping Ren’s erection firmly, fingers drifting lower until he felt his balls. He squeezed them, tighter and tighter.

“If we keep going, you’re going to get the rough fucking you deserve, _Supreme Leader_.”

The words _rough fucking_  hit Ren low in his abdomen and spread to the balls that Hux was squeezing so tightly, nearly robbing the breath from his lungs. He swallowed, overwhelmed suddenly by this infuriating asshole sitting on top of him. How had it come to this?

He narrowed his eyes, willing himself back into check, and twitched his fingers again, tearing the small knife from Hux’s grip, using the Force to make it hover just below Hux’s chin, point digging in, but not enough to draw blood. Hux raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, managing to look disdainful even at the point of a knife.

“If you give me a _rough fucking_ , it will be the one I desire.”

That had come out wrong, but Ren didn’t care. He rolled his head to the side, dropping the knife, and shifting his concentration to something across the huge space of the room. He reached out with an outstretched hand, and a bottle of lubricant smacked into his palm. He turned and offered it to Hux.

“Use this. Prep me. Be quick about it.”

Hux looked at the bottle, then in the general direction that Ren had pulled it from. “What is that, and why is it here?”

Ren rolled his eyes. “I told you this is my gym. I masturbate in here.” He mimed stroking a dick. “You know. Or I shove fingers up my ass. Do you need me to explain how it works?”

Hux snarled, sliding back and tearing up the front of Ren’s pants in his haste to pull them off. He uncovered Ren’s pubic hair, the scar on his hip. None of it seemed to matter to Hux, he looked at nothing. He was single-minded about removing the salt-stained pants, savagely pulling them lower when sweat adhered them to Ren’s legs. He hummed in irritation, then rolled from his position on top of Ren so he could pull them all the way off.

Ren flexed his thighs, pushing his hips slightly off the floor. “Had you pictured me this way before?” he asked, gripping himself just below his ass.

Hux rolled his eyes again, snatching the bottle of lubricant from where it had fallen to the floor. Ren noted he wasn’t removing his own clothes, the shirt still bunched halfway up his chest, his pants riding low on his hips, his panties visible above the elastic waist. A long stretch of bare midriff was on display, and Hux seemed completely unselfconscious about it.

“Yes, I looked at you through all those layers of robes and thought, ‘There’s an unusual sight. A body in peak physical condition. Not something I saw every day, growing up amid an army in active training.’”

“Sorry. I guess I forgot, since it doesn’t look like your body ever reached ‘peak physical condition.’”

“I beat you, didn’t I? You conceded fast enough.” He slapped the inside of Ren’s bared thigh. “Flip over. I’m not doing this face to face.”

The thought also horrified Ren, and he turned quickly, baring his ass and flexing the muscles of his back. Before he was even completely settled, Hux shoved a lubed finger in roughly, without warning, and he gasped.

“Do you have absolutely no _finesse_ ,” he grit out tightly, feeling himself tighten reflexively around the offending digit. “Do you actually need me to show you how to do this?”

“Perhaps you need to learn the definition of the word _rough_ ,” Hux returned, withdrawing and thrusting in again. “You might be surprised, but I don’t have much use for bedside manner.”

“What? You? I took you to be a gentle and caring in private.”

Hux twisted his finger, finding Ren’s prostate, and Ren grunted, putting a hand to his cock. Hux slapped it away.

“No. You aren’t to touch yourself.”

“Fuck you, I’ll touch myself if I want.”

He was pushing his slick finger into Ren faster now, definitely rough, but still working Ren open with a certain degree of skill. “You will not touch yourself while I’m doing this. Is that understood?”

It was delivered in Hux’s ‘I’m giving an order’ voice, and Ren was forced to picture him in his ridiculous hat, red-faced and shouting during his daily address. He supposed that was what he would look like driving himself into Ren. Why was he letting Hux do this, again?

Then Hux found his prostate again, and Ren suddenly remembered.

When Hux began working a second finger perfunctorily inside, Ren realized he would need to talk, or the strangeness of this situation would overwhelm him.

“Have you fantasized about this,” he asked, “Fucking me, digging your nails into my back and dragging those sharp little claws down to make bloody stripes in my skin?”

“I can’t believe you’d describe my nails as claws with two of them in your ass.”

Ren was annoyed, and he clenched down on Hux’s fingers. Hux hissed, but made no further comment. After a few more moments of unbearable silence, Ren continued.

“Have you thought about slapping my hand away from my aching cock? Thought about how frustrated I’d be, imagine the noises I’d make as I struggled with my self-control? My… impulsive side?”

“Supreme Leader, you are giving me the impression that you _fantasize_  about being humiliated, denied, made to beg for what you want.” His hand paused, two fingers pushed into the knuckle. “An interesting idea.”

Ren snorted derisively, though he found the way that Hux said 'Supreme Leader' was no less infuriating, even with two of his fingers shoved inside Ren’s ass. “I don’t beg. I take. Count yourself lucky you’ve gotten this far.”

“Lucky.” Hux continued thrusting, letting his knuckles graze just inside, just enough to drive Ren mad, make his cock twitch and leak onto the mats. He twisted his neck, scraping his cheek against the rough fabric and looked beneath himself, the thin trail of precome connecting his red, aching dick to the small dark spot in the rough fabric. He ached to have his fingers around it. He ached even more for whatever abuse Hux was about to put him through.

Hux did indeed introduce a third finger just before Ren was ready. It stung, but he wanted it, savored it. The pain settled him, even as this whole activity wound him up, charged everything about him, worked him into a frenzy that he could sense would be far better than whatever outlet he was seeking for his fury when he’d walked in here.

“I’m lucky you interrupted my morning routine with your childish questions, your bullying, your pathetic show of begging for my cock,” Hux offered. He began catching Ren’s rim as his fingers worked their way out, and Ren made a grunting noise, the edge of a whine, reveling in the ache of it.

“I can tell you want more, Supreme Leader. You’ll have to be more clear. Order me. Say, ‘General, I want to be fucked so hard I cry into the floor of the Officer’s Fitness Suite.’”

He said the last in a mocking voice, pitched low and mimicking Ren’s accent. It should have been offensive. But Ren was too far on the edge. Only one part of that registered as an insult.

“It’s mine,” he clarified. “My gym. How did you not know that?”

“I never got the message that you’d claimed it. My mistake. I thought these rooms were large enough to suit around seventy people at once, in addition to your singular ego.”

Ren was sure that was some sort of regulation size, but he groaned as Hux’s fingers pulled out. He heard Hux shuffle on the mat, heard the wet noises of the General slicking himself, the cold hand on his bare waist as Hux lined himself up, the head of his dick pressing against Ren’s entrance.

“Do you wish to beg for it, Supreme Leader? Do you want me to deny you, make you scream your orders into the mat? ‘General, fuck me, teach me a lesson, come inside me and let me feel it run down my thighs.’”

“Do it now,” Ren hissed, impatient.

“Your fantasies don’t match your personality.”

“ _Fuck me_ , General Hux, that’s an order!”

And like that, Hux pushed in, all the way. It was neither slow nor gentle. Ren assumed it must have hurt Hux too, the tightness, but Ren hardly cared as he felt like Hux was tearing him apart from the inside. The action nearly drove him out of his mind, overwhelming him and driving all the thought, all the stress, all the rage and defeat straight from his mind. When he could gather his thoughts again, all he could think about was how full he was, how hard he was, how he was desperate to touch himself but Hux had told him no.

Surprisingly, Hux had stayed like that, buried deep, not moving.

“Having trouble?” Ren managed, keeping his voice steady, though he could feel the muscles of his abdomen trembling, could feel the sweat standing out on his skin, could feel his body shivering all over.

Hux did pull out, slowly this time. Ren couldn’t feel anything from him, and didn’t push, didn’t really want to know what Hux made of all this. Looking into people’s heads often spoiled Ren’s opinion of them. Not that his opinion of Armitage Hux could get much worse, but Ren would hate to have to kill him before he was able to come.

The thrust back in was hard, decisive, and Ren cried out as the skin of Hux’s thighs slapped against his ass, the heat of Hux pressing in.

“No trouble. Just deciding how best to take you. Should I push your face into the mat? Wrap my fingers into your disgusting, salt-crusted hair? Or should I stay up here, just like this, to get the job done as fast as possible, because you aren’t worth a single second more of my time?”

He punctuated this last by pulling out and pushing back in again, and Ren did make the high, keening noise this time.

“Harder,” he grit out. “Faster. Make it hurt.”

Hux thrust again. “You deserve nothing better.”

It was rough, and fast, and hard. Hux was as good as his word, keeping his hands back, not leaning over, doing little more than breathing hard to indicate that anything even remotely strenuous was happening.

Ren indulged himself, because otherwise, what was the point of this? He groaned, burying his own fingers in his hair and pulling, savoring the burn, the ache, the stretch, the _fullness_ , the fact that he wasn’t to touch himself-

“Please,” he begged, when he was close to the edge, there and there and there with every thrust, but never enough.

“Please _what_ , Supreme Leader?” Hux asked breathlessly.

The title was still so unreal, and even with the way Hux said it, dripping with contempt, it added an extra coil of pleasure to the mounting pressure building in his belly. Infuriatingly, it was still not enough. Hux’s evasions and coyness were suddenly annoying. Hux was driving into him from behind, acting as if he was above all this, and asking Ren _what he wanted_. Ren was desperate, and his voice hardened.

“Am I boring you, Hux? Can we finish sometime today?”

“That’s not quite what you just said, is it? Wasn’t it your fantasy that you be so frustrated that you beg for release?”

“What, are you going to keep fucking me until I do?”

“Try me. I can go all morning.”

He pulled out, and Ren groaned, turning his head. He saw Hux slicking himself up again from the corner of his eye.

“ _Hux_ ,” he tried, gritting his teeth, and Hux plunged back in.

“Do you even know what begging is, Supreme Leader? Haven’t you had enough victims groveling at your feet to know what it sounds like?”

“ _General_.”

“Better this time. Try again.”

“General, _please_.”

“What do you want?”

“ _Touch me_. Or let me do it.” His groaning, desperate noises had stopped, edged with frustration, mounting and growing with the edge of his orgasm. And it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough.

“No. Not until you show me something else.”

“Please General, _please_. I want it. I need it.”

“You would kill a prisoner for insolence if they begged like that.” And because he was a cruel bastard, Hux’s fingers ghosted along the skin of his belly, just above Ren’s painful, throbbing erection, hanging low and heavy between his legs. He could almost feel the heat of Hux’s fingertips against his aching length.

“Please,” he said again, all but shouting, letting an edge of desperation into his voice. “Touch me. Let me come. I. I need it.”

“You need it?”

“Bad, Hux, I need it bad, I need you to touch me-” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. The humiliation washed through him, made his cock and balls ache worse. He groaned, whined, sliding his knees out, realizing he was trying to pull himself off Hux’s dick and rut against the floor.

“More. Show me more, Supreme Leader.”

“Do it,” he moaned, putting his hands over his face, hating himself, hating his desperation. “Let me come, touch me, just once. I only need it once.”

“You don’t sound quite desperate enough. Wasn’t it you who wanted to sob into the mat?”

And Ren keened in frustration, and something inside him broke, all of it coming out at once. He felt the muscles in his abdomen spasm, and a noise came out of his mouth, higher, more like a cough, a groan. His face was still covered by his hands, and he felt the saliva running from his mouth, the snot running from his nose. The tears, running from his eyes.

And Hux touched him then, and Ren tightened his fingers, letting out a loud moan into the rough, wet fabric of the mat, one that stole all the air from his lungs as he emptied himself, coming harder and longer and more intensely than he ever had before. As it was going on, as his body wound itself as taut as it could go and his head and thoughts spiraled, he moaned, and moaned, and moaned. It felt like it would never stop.

It inevitably did. Hux thrust through it all, the burn around his rim sliding from pleasure-pain to pain. As he took in a gasp of air, desperate, tasting of the filthy, sweaty mat, some part of his mind dimly objected as Hux gave a quiet grunt and came with little fanfare inside of him.

Ren felt like he couldn’t make a sound, that every thought and emotion had been wrung from him. He’d been emptied of everything, all of it spilling into the mat.

As he sat and thought of nothing, absolutely nothing, Hux pulled out, sitting back. Ren rolled over on his side, feeling the unpleasant warm trickle of Hux’s come down his thighs, and watched as Hux tucked his dick back into his lace panties and then pulled the tight waistband of his pants back up, the rucked hem of his shirt down, those bare arms smoothing the wrinkles from both, absurdly. There were dark patches on his chest and below his arms, and white stains where the Crait salt from Ren had rubbed off on the dark fabric.

Hux grabbed his little monomolecular blade knife off the floor, considered it, then looked at Ren. Wherever he concealed it before, he apparently didn’t wish Ren to know its hiding place, so he simply spun it between his fingers and crouched as if to stand.

“Wait,” Ren gasped, weakly, thrusting a hand toward Hux. Hux scowled at him.

“You ruined my exercise time. I’m going to have to start my shift without finishing my routine.”

“Wait,” Ren repeated, sitting back up.

“Unless you have something worthwhile to say, which you rarely do-”

Ren cut him off by pushing him over onto his back, folding him at the waist to watch him bend, watch the backs of his knees come up nearly to his ears.

“What now,” he asked mildly. “I don’t have time for this.”

Ren looked at him, at his impassive face, then squeezed his sides, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh of Hux’s stomach. Wordlessly, he worked them into the waistband of Hux’s pants, pulling them down to expose his lower back, the top thread of black lace on his panties that circled his waist and disappeared into the cleft of his ass, the surprisingly heavy cluster of freckles that spilled over the General’s lower back and across the top of his narrow ass.

He caught the tops of the panties with his teeth, dragging them down Hux’s thighs, toward the General’s face. He held them in place with his thumbs, closed his eyes, then drug his tongue between the General’s cheeks, tasting the sweat and flavor, flicking teasingly at Hux’s hole.

He paused and murmured against Hux’s entrance, not looking up into his face. “A shame, General. I’d like to take my time with you.”

“And I’d like to make the _Supremacy_  spaceworthy again. I don’t enjoy being aboard an enormous sitting target floating dead in space.” He writhed in Ren’s grip, sliding out from under him and pulling his pants back up. “Some of us have work to do.” He glanced around the empty expanse of the steamy gym, then coldly back to where Ren crouched, naked, on the floor.

“And some of us are self-proclaimed Supreme Leaders of the First Order.” Hux bent down and picked up his knife, testing the point with his thumb and looking at Ren.

“Some other time.”

And he walked over to the bathing suite, leaving Ren naked, alone, sated, and empty of all thoughts. Ren laid back and surrendered to the oblivion of sleep, satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@vadianna](http://vadianna.tumblr.com).


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